Stained Silver
by VyingQuill
Summary: *Repost*--We descend down into Draco's life, discovering what lies behind the layers of contempt and hate; the reason behind the deeds.


_Stained Silver_

A/N: Yea, please review! I would love it, and I'll write the second part too! Pretty please Read and Review?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. J.K does, though.

1/2

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**_I've gotta be honest,_**

**_I think you know,_**

Draco Malfoy smirked at his reflection in the mirror, tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind his ear. His father had been talking about cutting it—he said it made Draco look soft, less tough. He placed a hand protectively over the silver cascade before gliding through the open door. 

"Draco!" 

The harsh voice cut the air like a whip. Draco winced as he stumbled backwards, almost tripping over his own feet.

He could feel them—the cold gray eyes, watching his every move, criticizing his every move, picking apart his every move. 

"Why, I must say I'm disappointed I've raised such a worthless, useless, lump of a boy...to think, Master actually thinks you will be a worthy addition to his group..." Lucius Malfoy commented cruelly, studying his son's eyes cloud over in shame and disappointment. When the boy looked up again, his eyes were blazing with a deep fire, flickering sullenly across his face.

"They say the apple never falls far from the tree. Father," Draco added coldly, struggling to keep the rebellion in his voice under control. 

Lucius's expression never wavered, never changed from the uncaring expression his face had taken on. "Maybe this apple went bad. I would hope—for the apple's sake—that it didn't."

Draco pressed his lips tightly together, biting his tongue to keep from retaliating. His teeth drew blood—maroon, sticky blood, tasting of silver and salt. 

Lucius sneered and brushed past Draco as he would brush off dust or lint. "I have a meeting with my Lord. You will stay home—and study from that book I bought gave you for Christmas." He turned around and placed a hand on Draco's shoulder, sending a piercing pain shooting downwards.

Draco shook the hand off and pivoted sharply on his heel, slamming his bedroom door behind him in a last, desperate attempt to catch his father's attention. It didn't. Without an ounce of regret, Lucius strode down the stairs and went about doing his business as usual. 

****

**_We're covered in lies and thats OK_**

**_There's somewhere beyond this I know_**

**_But I hope I can find the words to say_**

Draco knelt down beside his large bed, letting a single silver tear flow bitterly from his eyes. 

_Draco, is there anything unusual occuring in your mansion—any information from your father about Voldemort...it would greatly help us..._ That was what that fool, Dumbledore, had told him before school had been out for the summer. Of course, Draco had denied everything and exited hastily—yet some part of him wished he were good—a bit like Harry Potter, even…

Draco wiped the tear away harshly. Never, in this lifetime, would he be able to stand up to Lucius, be greater than Lucius, whose light shone over Draco's, shadowing over him, leaving him to fade away into the murky background.

Much to Draco's disappointment and anger, he fell back against the bedpost and let tears flow freely down his pale cheeks. As abruptly as they had come, he stopped, ran a sleeve over his face, and stood up, expression blank as ever. 

****

**_Never again no_**

**_No never again..._**

He strode out of the room, heading fixedly towards the dungeons beneath the mansion, vowing to let no sign of weakness show ever again—to show his father that he _could, _could be as cruel, heartless, clever, slippery...as anyone. 

Feeling his heart beat raggedly in his chest, he straightened his back and marched into the dungeon with all grace and dignity he could muster. 

_Yes...yes...perfect...this ought to impress him...show him..._Draco thought, tilting his chin up and strutting to the front of the dungeon before truly looking around it for the first time. 

It was empty. Not a single figure was silhouetted against the moon. He had been parading around an empty room, in hopes that his father had been watching. 

What little will he had hidden away leaked out. He slumped dejectedly against the wall, watching a beetle scuttle wildly about to save itself. He toyed with it for a while—put a bit of pressure on it's hard shell, made a wall with his fingers around it, before smashing it with a quick, deft motion of his heel, grinding it into the cement. 

"Having fun?" a familiar voice asked mockingly, a hint of amusement tinged around the edges.

Draco's head snapped up, his eyes locking onto an identical pair. "I-I-I was looking for you—I've decided—" He paused hesitantly before deciding to break the ice. "I've decided to help you," he finished vaguely, hoping he wouldn't have to go into great detail. 

An icy sort of smile spread across Luciu's acute features. Draco felt his chest bursting with pride and confidence as Lucius offered a milky hand to help him to his feet. 

Watching Draco brush himself off, Lucius spoke. "So. You've decided you're finally ready—I don't know if you have the brains or skill yet, but we'll bring you in. Come." He beckoned fluidly with his hand and they exited the dungeon into the room next to it. "We are in here. Make sure you are presentable—and be respectful." 

Almost tenderly, Lucius guided Draco into the room. 

"Voldemort..." Draco whispered, for the Dark Lord sat loftily upon a rickety chair, eyes glinting maliciously out at the two. 

"M'lord...I have brought you my son...he has made his choice to serve you, and only you," Lucius spoke softly, his head bowed.

Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, Draco felt a twinge of guilt, but he quickly pushed it aside. He knelt at Voldemort's feet, wondering what next to do. A torrent of emotions and questions chased themselves foggily around his mind. 

A sharp pain in his forearm jolted him back to reality. The sharp smell of burning flesh filled Draco's nostrils; his eyes watered, and he tried to pull away. Still the stinging pain continued. The sizzling of skin filled the room—then stopped.

"Weak. He feels too much," Voldemort said simply as he released Draco's arm. The boy fell back, cradling his injured arm while observing his new accessory. The Dark Mark, permanently etched into his left forearm. 

****

**_Cause you're a god,_**

**_And I am not_**

**_And I just thought _**

**_That you would know_**

**_You're a god_**

**_And I am not_**

**_And I just thought _**

**_I'd let you go._**

Draco, frozen in horror, turned slowly around, surveying the room. Or rather, the people in the room. All the Death Eaters bore a triumphant look—a smile at gaining a new follower for the Dark. 

"Draco Cassius Malfoy—you are now a loyal servant of Lord Voldemort," Voldemort hissed before pausing. "Or will you prove to be a traitor?"

Draco shivered slightly, but check himself and stopped. Standing in the corner, straight and cross-armed, was Lucius, a strange glint in his gray eyes. 

**_But I've been unable_**

**_To put you down_**

**_I'm still learning things I ought to know by now_**

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(A few days later...)

*******************

"Draco! How many times do you have to try to get it right?" Lucius screamed at his son, who slumped miserably onto a rickety chair in a dungeon cell, face beaded with sweat.

"I'm trying," Draco answered softly, not being able to find the energy to holler. Under the rough hands of Lucius, he managed to stand up again. 

"Avada Kedavra," he said limply, pointing his wand at Lucius and knowing that nothing would happen, what with his low supply of energy.

There was a tense moment of icy silence, then—"You may go. Tomorrow, at the same time, and I expect better things from you."

Feeling depressed, Draco stumbled out of the room, wandering through the halls of Malfoy Manor.

"Oh, and Draco!" Lucius's voice magically floated through the mansion. "If you can't do it by next time...well, you'd wish you had practice a bit more."

_More...more...more..._ the last words echoed through the hall, sending slight shivers down Draco's back. And he knew exactly what would happen if he couldn't do the Killing Curse by tomorrow. 

With a sudden spurt of fresh determination, he stepped into an elevator-like platform and instantly appeared in his room. Cool breezes wafted through the window screen, banging slightly at the open doors. 

Draco walked swiftly across the room to the windowsill, where he began grabbing for spiders crawling on it. 

When he finally caught one, he set it in a small glass jar on his desk and took a seat across the room on his bed. 

Perched on his feet, he raised his wand and screwed up the last bit of his energy and hoped for the best. 

"Avada Kedavra!" 

His voice drifted through the window and startled a nearby squirrel scrambling up a tree. 

To Draco's despair, nothing happened. The spider ran frantically around in the glass jar bottom, looking in vain for an escape.

"Miserable thing," Draco snapped, pointing his wand firmly at the spider. "Avada Kedavra." A blaze of green light filled the room, than faded slowly away. A brittle looking spider lay on it's back, legs in the air, completely dead. 

Slowly, as an engine revving up, a cruel smile spread across Draco's face, widening with satisfaction as he dumped the spider out the window and watched it fall to the ground so far below. He looked forward to tomorrow, looked forward to seeing the pride on his father's face when whatever he was supposed to kill was actually killed, looked forward to...everything. 

**_It's under the table so_**

**_I need something more to show somehow_**

**_Never again, no_**

**_No never again_**

****

****

Green. That was all the helpless sparrow saw before dropping away into a black chasm. 

"That's my boy!" Lucius roared loudly, thumping on Draco's back enthusiastically, forgetting to keep on his usually cool demeanor. The room full of Death Eaters burst into applause; Draco turned to look at Voldemort, who had a strange glint in his eye.

"Well...only fifteen and successfully, and easily, performed the Killing Curse...we shall see, shan't we?" A crooked, thin-lipped smile formed on Voldemort's pale face. "That's a good one, Lucius. Don't lose him." 

Draco could sense the pride radiating from his father's body, and he too glowed with pleasure. Somewhere in his heart, he felt a slight tinge at the sparrows limp, unmarked body, but he quickly pushed that aside and concentrated on feeling elated. 

"Malfoy, do you wish to participate in our next big assignment?" It was not a question.

Draco nodded swiftly and silently, wondering what it could be.

Voldemort chuckled coldly again and began laying out the plans for Draco, before telling him the part in it he would play.

*******************

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, said a quick, silent prayer of forgiveness before slipping into the entrance gate to the Ministry of Magic headquarters. 

_Remember Draco....when the Dark Mark fires into the sky...that will be your time of glory...your proof of self..._Lucius's voice echoed loudly in the boy's pounding ears. 

A skinny, short witch hustled busily past Draco as he entered the massive building. She paused momentarily to gaze curiously at the silver-haired stranger, but moved on when Draco flashed her a large, overly-sweet smile. 

_Still got the charm, _he couldn't help thinking wickedly as he ran his tongue slowly over his pearly teeth. He moved on, having not a clue to where he was going. Past a few offices with their doors slightly ajar, pushing through crowds of milling wizards that had gathered around the circular lounge room...he even spotted a head or two topped with flaming red hair, followed by brown freckles. 

_I _have _to do this—honor...family honor...Lucius—no, Father—will finally be proud..._A strange, aching sensation settled in his chest as he meandered through the building, waiting—watching—ever watchful—for the sign. 

Quite suddenly, breaking the uneventful stillness, a man sped past him, panting and bruised all over. 

"Death---Eaters---Alley---Diagon—killing---attack---help!!!!!" he spat out before tumbling exhaustedly to the floor. 

_Pitiful, _Draco thought haughtily, a black sort of pride streaking through his veins. 

Utter and total chaos ensued—Ministry witches and wizards Disapparating ever two feet, people running around grabbing cloaks and wands—tinkles of coffee mugs spilling over table edges—Draco, all sense of good forgotten, adrenaline filling his body, stared coolly as the Minister himself appeared hastily in the lounge.

"All able-bodied officials—leave, armed, at once to Diagon Alley. Put down the Death-Eaters, and Apparate straight back here. I will be in my office if anyone has any questions about this order." Cornelius Fudge swept pompously out of the room before his magically magnified voice filled the whole Ministry, repeating what he had just said to them. 

In the blink of an eye, the room, once full of relaxed officials, was emptied of any human but Draco. He paused momentarily, making sure everyone was gone, before hurrying towards the large window, overlooking the east side of the building. 

A quiet hum settled over the Ministry Headquarters—Draco assumed most had already gone. As an answer to his thoughts, a gruesome skull, complete with snake protruding from mouth, lit up the hazy sky. His sign. _The _sign.

Draco acted instantly—he dashed down the many corridors, occasionaly skidding to a stop and whirling around, his mind desperately searching the Fudge's office. In his flight, he barely noticed a certain, tall, lanky red-head—not until they crashed fully into each other. 

"Weasley," Draco sneered the moment he regained his senses. His vision swayed a bit before focusing—Percy Weasley, looking as haughty as ever. Annoyance overcame him—it took all he had not to curse Percy's face.

"Draco Malfoy, I presume. Why are you here?" Percy asked earnestly.

Draco allowed his sneer to widen. "Like you would know. _Stupefy!" _He circled the fallen Weasley three times before departing. "BE happy it wasn't worse."

_Why'd you do that? You didn't have to do that...you could have done something else—instead you cursed him...what's wrong with you?..._a small voice in the back of Draco's head sprang to life, angrily taunting him. 

_Shut up. I did what I had to. There was no other way---and it ought to set that Weasley family straight—just—just—shut up, _Draco snapped madly, finally stopping in front of a large, spacious office labled 'Minister Cornelius Fudge' in gleaming letters. 

"This is it..." he whispered aloud. Gathering his wits and courage, wand ready in sweaty hands, he pushed through the heavy oak door. 

The Minister's graying head barely bobbed when Draco entered. 

"I thought I ordered everyone to Diagon Alley," The Minister said, swiveling around in his chair to stare Draco in the eye. 

Draco swallowed hard, willing himself to perform his task—his duty. 

_Oh God...forgive me..._the small voice in his head cried as, in slow motion, Draco's leaden hand swung up and around...directed straight at Fudge. 

_Rethink this...don't do it, you'll regret it..._the voice tried one last time before Draco pushed it aside.

_"Avada Kedavra!" _

_*************8_

Ron Weasley... "_Yeah, I bet he's one of those nutters out there in black cloaks..."_

Albus Dumbledore... "_Tonight, a student has been killed by Voldemort...Cedric Diggory...honor him...do not forget..."_

Hermione Granger... "_Twitchy little ferret, aren't we, Malfoy..."_

Harry Potter. "_I can tell the wrong sort myself, thanks"_

_**************_

_He was right..._Draco thought miserably. The thud of Fudge's body hitting the wooden floor vibrated throughout him...filling him with regret. 

He had completed his task—fulfilled The _Plan._

The little voice in his head died.

A/N: And the little voice in your head is telling you to review...Please Review????????


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